


Starlight

by ficteer



Series: basia [1]
Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficteer/pseuds/ficteer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Abe goes to bed that night, he closes his eyes, and a galaxy blooms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> do u ever just want abe and mihashi to kiss
> 
> set right after That Scene in chapter 100.

_“But you are the one who cares about me the most…”_

The sentence rings in his head for the rest of the day, through classes where he stares at the blackboard and pretends to see the math problems and not Mihashi’s blushing face, each tintinnabulation of Mihashi Ren as clear in his ears as if the blond was still croaking them out. They linger, even through practice, even with him concentrating as much as he can on helping Mihashi with his pitching, even through the echoing loudness of the showers, even until his hands are gripped tightly on his bike handle bars and it’s only Tajima keeping them from being alone again. 

When they part, Mihashi’s eyes meet his own, and Abe turns quickly to walk to his home, biking with an energy he doesn’t usually have after a practice that hard, heart beating in his chest and shoulders heaving with breath by the time he gets home. He sees the exact arc of Mihashi’s shoulders coming up to his ears in his soup, tastes the same sound of Mihashi’s hitched breath in his rice. He goes, takes a bath, and it’s while he’s brushing his teeth that he pauses, biting his toothbrush gently as he stares at himself in the mirror, and the realization very, very slowly dawns on him.

He’s known for a while, he thinks, slowly resuming the back and forth motion of his toothbrush over his molars. Or rather, he’s  _wanted_ to for a while, but it wasn’t ever something conscious, something he’d thought about in words or anything more than a passing impression he’d probably satisfied with a hand holding or a ruffle of hair. He washes the toothpaste out of his mouth, pats his face dry with the hand towel, and then, hesitantly, as if someone would know what was in his mind while he did it, Abe reached two fingers up and gently touched his lips.

He really,  _really_ , wanted to kiss Mihashi Ren.

As soon as the words form in his head, said in that toneless voice that’s his constant companion, he feels his whole body flush with heat, and he watches in the mirror as his face burns red. He lowers his fingers from his mouth, clutches the hand towel fiercely in his fist, and quickly replaces it on the small ring hanging by the light switch, snapping the lights off and stalking past his baffled little brother into his room. He all but throws himself on his bed, clutching his pillow and burying the heat of his cheeks into that softness. He can’t sleep though, not like this, not when he closes his eyes to the way Mihashi had looked that afternoon in the school courtyard standing across from him, not when he still hears the words in his ears,  _“But you are the one who cares about me the most…”,_ as if Mihashi is still saying them, as if Mihashi is in his room, kneeling next to his bed and stroking his hair while he tells Abe how amazing he thinks he is, in that awe-touched voice Mihashi always had when talking about him, and that thought brings a groan from deep inside that he smothers into his pillow along with his blush.

Abe doesn’t sleep well that night, and when he does finally manage to fall asleep, he wakes up at least three times that he remembers at the blaring of his alarm. He groggily gets out of his traitorous bed, pads into the kitchen, and eats a breakfast that isn’t quite what he wants because it’s not the one he made with Mihashi, and  _no_ , this was  _stupid_ , it was  _annoying_  to have to cook with Mihashi, but even still the toast was buttered like his mother did it, and the rice was cooked a little different, and somehow, Abe can’t quite smother the ache for a new training camp where he and the blond could argue in the kitchen again. And, Abe thinks, so suddenly that he all but chokes on his tea, maybe take advantage of the dark morning privacy for a kiss.

He bikes to practice with the same bizarre energy he had the previous night, arriving early as usual, and changing into his practice jersey with hands that weren’t as steady as usual. When Mihashi arrived, he felt the spike in his pulse rate and made himself very busy with the rake, hoping the blond didn’t pick up on the crack in his voice during his greeting. Whether he did or not, he didn’t say anything, and Abe was almost sad, spending their meditation session picturing a scene in which Mihashi had asked him what was wrong and Abe had had the daring to pull him behind the dugout and show him just how much he really was the one who cared about him most.

Mihashi did definitely notice the blazing heat of his hand, as his eyes were wide and blinking curiously at him when they finished, not releasing their grasp as they stood and tugging slightly on Abe’s arm. “Is Abe-kun feeling all right?” Mihashi asked, head tilting and lips parting around each word, and Abe runs his tongue along the back of his teeth as he contemplates the question. The answer he  _should_  give, he decides, is yes, because in all truth he’s fine if not just particularly flustered by being so close to his pitcher like this, and anything other than a definitive ‘yes’ would have Mihashi worrying for the entire practice whether  _he_  was the cause of Abe’s woes (which he  _was_ , but.). The answer that was  _true_ , he carefully admits in this split second where all of these thoughts were rushing through his head is no, because really sweaty palms and increased heart rate and an inability to breathe were definitely  _not_  healthy, and he  _was_  feeling a little bit light-headed, his fingers tingling where they meshed with Mihashi’s, and oh,  _oh_. 

The answer he  _gave_ , however, was neither of those two.

He’s not sure how it happened exactly, as one minute he’s staring into Mihashi’s eyes trying desperately to think how to answer him, and the next, he’s marveling at the shape of Mihashi’s mouth pressed against his own, and the soft sound of mixed surprise and delight that caresses his ears almost as nicely as Mihashi’s fingers do, his pitcher’s hand reaching up and weaving into his hair to knock his baseball hat onto the ground. His skin shimmers as Mihashi’s lips curl into a smile beneath his own, brushing and  _moving_  and Abe has  _no_  idea how a kiss is supposed to work but he really,  _really_  likes this, likes how light he feels, loves the way his heart thunders against his chest and how the butterflies in his gut pull his stomach into a gordian love knot. 

He breaks the kiss with a gasp, to breathe or from surprise he’s not completely sure, but he doesn’t want to break the closeness too, so he lets their noses brush like their lips just did and presses his forehead to Mihashi’s, slowly opening his eyes to find himself doused in liquid gold. And then, right when Abe was sure he could finally think, Mihashi laughs, and it’s a sound that delights every cell in his body as he shakes from the sheer joy he feels in every pore. He’s sure he’s smiling, he can feel the grin cracking his face in two, and he probably laughs too, though his ears only hear Mihashi’s. 

Except then he hears more than Mihashi’s, he hears the whistles and the whoops and hollers, and when he finally straightens his spine and manages to pull himself out of Mihashi long enough to look out at the field, he’s absolutely  _horrified_  to see that the entire baseball team not only saw him lose his control and kiss his pitcher, they’d seen his pitcher  _return_ it, and  _oh my god Izumi had his phone out_. 

Despite what he believes, Abe does not spontaneously combust where he stands, nor does his life end with the torment of embarrassment. He is, however, mercilessly teased, with kissing noises and smoochy faces all the way through morning practice, and the bike to the clubhouse is  _hell_ , made even worse by everyone nudging him when Mihashi’s eyes linger a little long on Abe’s chest while they’re changing (he burns again, wondering how many times Mihashi had brushed  _his_  teeth and looked into  _his_  mirror, if he’d ever thought ‘ _I want to kiss Abe Takaya’_  and gone to bed on fire, too). Classes are a little more bearable, if only because he could pretend to focus on the board and not on Mizutani’s snickering over his shoulder, and the way Hanai seemed to be building his way up to a very captain-like speech about keeping public displays of affection off the baseball diamond, thank you very much. 

Afternoon practice is very much the same as morning practice, despite Abe’s desperate wishes that the hubbub would have died down, and it’s all made even worse by Tajima’s loud declaration that he would go straight home today because Abe and Mihashi should have their first couple-walk home in private. And so Abe finds himself, hands clutching desperately at his bike handles until there’s a soft tug on his sleeve, and when he looks, a second kiss as dazzling as the first, fingers sliding into his hair and a bike crashing to the road as Mihashi demonstrates rather clearly just how much thought he’d put into this before today. It aches to pull away, but Abe knows he has homework,  _Mihashi_  has homework, and there’s an early practice with more relentless teasing to come, and so they part, hands and fingers clinging tightly together until the very last moment they can’t touch any more, and Abe bikes home, calmer than he had been in a long time.

When he brushes his teeth that evening, he rinses out his mouth and dries off his face, and this time when he brings his fingers to his mouth, he thoughts are just as clear, not ‘ _I want to kiss Mihashi Ren_ ’, but ‘ _I want to kiss Mihashi Ren again_ ’, and it’s a little different, but he burns all the same, hangs up the towel in the same manner, ruffles his little brother’s hair, and collapses on his bed to bury himself in his pillow. 

But tonight, he tucks under his blanket, and the peace settles into his very bones. He closes his eyes, and a universe of gold is born on the backs of his eyelids, each star ringing with the sound of Mihashi’s laughter, and on each and every one, Abe makes a wish.

 


End file.
